Showcase
by storyduststories
Summary: Welcome to Showcase, my indefinitely long series of self-indulgent Raven-centric drivel.
1. The Foreword

Welcome to Showcase. There's a couple of things I need to establish first.

Showcase is a collection showcasing Raven because she is my favorite. I might focus on a trait, power, etc. I doubt any of them will be longer than a couple thousand words, possibly broken into parts. I might have multiple pieces for a given topic. Some of the contents of the comics will be canon, but you needn't have read the comics to read these.

The animated series is primary canon; the comics are secondary. Meaning, the events that happened in the show are the _only_ things that have happened thus far in the universe. Anything that happened in the comics that conflicts with the show will be disregarded or adapted. For example, in the show, the group is founded when they all collectively rescue Starfire, and so this is the narrative that will be true in my stories, not the comic version where Raven gathers everyone to fight Trigon. Superheroes other than the five animated ones (Dick Grayson as Robin, Victor Stone as Cyborg, Garfield Logan as Beast boy, Koriand'r as Starfire, and Raven) will either play very minor roles or no roles at all.

I will not be addressing the characters' ages, but figure they're late high school/early college ages. For the sake of simplicity, Robin will only ever be Robin, not Nightwing.

I will selectively choose what from the comics will be canon (excluding AUs like Earth One and Rebirth). It might depend on the piece, since these pieces will likely not be connected. Most if not everything from the show is canon. I'll be taking a lot of inspiration from the comics, though. I will not be taking the movies into account at all as far as canon goes.

I'm not a big shipper, so don't expect much other than friendship.

Since this website doesn't offer much in the way of organization, I'll include the "topic" in the beginning notes for each piece.

Warnings and such will be specific to each piece. I have no overall warnings or ratings.

I'll accept suggestions if you have any, but I have a list of things I want to do and unless I really like a suggestion, my list takes priority.

I also will gladly answer questions and accept suggestions/comments/criticism/feedback/etc. on my writing itself. I have no friends who share this interest of mine, so nobody's reviewing my work in any form. It would be nice to have a little company.

Lastly, I make no promises.

Welcome to Showcase.


	2. Horrors Too Terrible: I

**It behooves you to read the foreword for this series first, which you can find as the first chapter in this story.**

* * *

 **Summary: When Robin implements a series of training exercises designed to investigate the properties of Raven's soul-self, things abruptly go south.**

 **approx. 3,800 words**  
 **a total of five parts  
** **topic: soul-self**

 **The whole thing is done already, so it will be updated as I see fit. Notes about inspiration will come at the very end so as not to spoil anything.**

 **Episode references: 1x05, "The Sum of His Parts"**

* * *

She'd been alone in the living room when Robin approached her. It didn't require empathy to sense his determination, but his intention remained a mystery. He had something to ask of her, something more significant than a trivial question.

"We don't really know the properties of your soul-self," he said, his face unreadable. Raven, having not known what to expect, was already a little uneasy. "We know how Star's star bolts work, Cyborg's machinery, Beast Boy's DNA. But your soul-self—"

"I understand," Raven said, if just to get him to stop talking. Though she didn't know where this was coming from and loath though she was to admit it, she did understand. When it came to their meta human abilities, the team was intimately acquainted with Starfire's needs, Cyborg's limitations, Beast Boy's scope. What Raven was and what she could do was beyond anything any of them had previously known or perhaps would ever know.

But Robin had never been very satisfied with such conundrums.

Normally she wouldn't begrudge him for it. In this case, she could find no concrete reason to shoot him down, but as with anything having to do with her powers, she had a vague sense of foreboding. Nevertheless, she couldn't refute his logic—the team ought to know what they could rely on her for and what they could not.

"Why now?" she asked.

Sheepish, he rubbed a hand along the back of his head. "After what happened with Cyborg, I thought it would be prudent to learn the ins and outs of your powers."

Raven felt that he was refraining from emphasizing that it was her powers especially that required study. He'd definitely been prepared for this.

"Fine," she said. "What do you want to do?"

"A series of training exercises," he said, "to see what you can really do."

Raven looked at him skeptically. "Is this going to hurt?"

He gave her a small, amused smile. "Will it?"

She took a moment to seriously think about it. Pulling her hood up, Raven said, "For your sakes, I hope not." Her face once again shrouded, she turned away from him, intent on ending the conversation.

As she began to walk away, Robin said, "10 AM tomorrow, on the roof."

The door slid shut between them. Robin let out a breath.


	3. Horrors Too Terrible: II

10 AM the next morning found the entire team on the roof, Robin facing them with his arms folded and face set. They'd already said their good mornings and had a leisurely breakfast not too long ago, so Robin was already in full training mode, the rest of the team not far behind (though Raven was still apprehensive, she didn't express it).

"Okay, Raven," Robin said. "I think it might be best to start off by telling us what, exactly, your soul-self is."

Caught off-guard, Raven's eyes widened a touch. Her first instinct was to rebuff him, but logic prevailed yet again; it was valuable information to people who trusted her with their lives and vice versa. Especially with them all looking at her so expectantly, Raven figured she had little other option in the matter. But she'd never been called upon to explain herself. How to put it in a way they'd understand?

"Uh…"

"Let me ask a question," Cyborg said, saving her the trouble of finding a place to start. "Your soul-self is in the shape of a raven, right? What came first, you or the raven soul-self?"

"The soul-self," she said, finding it easier to respond to targeted questions. "Spirituality is not of as much concern here on Earth…"

"Or Tamaran," Starfire supplemented.

"…as it was back on Azarath. They were well acquainted with the nature of souls and performed many rituals to examine them, but they were all human. Their souls took different forms."

"Could they all do that weird separation magic thing you can do?" Beast Boy asked.

"Temporarily, and with great effort," Raven said. "They almost only ever did it to name newborns and newcomers, like my mother."

"So they did all the voodoo on baby-you, out popped a big spirit raven, and they named you after it?"

"Yes."

"So you are simply better at the separation than the people of your home world?" Starfire asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Raven said, feeling like she'd talked more this morning than she had in the past year. "Because of my lineage, my soul is naturally at odds with myself. Like oil and water. Easy to separate. I'm also capable of much more as a result; were any of your souls to be separated from your bodies, they would be able to do little more than take shape."

When it was clear Raven had nothing else to add, Robin interjected. "I think we've all seen some of what your soul-self can do," he said. "And I've been inside it—you—and it inside me. So let's start there. I've prepared a few simulations."

The first simulations turned out to be farfetched potential rescue scenarios. An exhausting couple of hours with only brief breaks between exercises tested how well her soul-self withstood extreme conditions—exceptionally high or low temperatures, incredible pressure, a complete lack of oxygen—by itself and with up to three others encased. Aside from the fatigue, Raven held up well, and though they didn't test any scenarios with Robin enveloped as well since he needed to run the simulations, it was easy to assume that Raven would be able to handle the extra addition just fine. For their part, Beast Boy, Starfire, and Cyborg all held up well, too—physically, anyway.

The team took a longer break for lunch during which they talked very little about the exercises. Raven had little to say at all and the rest of the team was finding the training taxing as well, being so unused to Raven's means of protection which was more than a little jarring to the uninitiated. Not to mention that they were effectively but willingly being used as guinea pigs.

When they reconvened after lunch, it was in good spirits, if a little weary. Raven dashed Robin's series of exercises designed to test strength when it became quickly apparent that physical strength was simply not a factor. Her soul-self could pick up and carry anything and any amount of it, regardless of its mass or density. Her only limitation in this regard appeared to be volume or surface area; if it was too big to envelop in her soul-self (which did turn out to have a limited size, even though that was quite large), she'd have to do it manually, and that took longer. Mainly, it seemed as though the primary benefit to using her soul-self was the separation or projection aspect of it, allowing her to be in two places at once, or to reach something when she could not do so physically. Distance was also decided to be a moot point since she could teleport, an ability that they wouldn't be testing lest it exhaust her.

Ultimately, these findings were a great boon to the team. Knowing the finer points of her abilities would aid them greatly in times of duress or emergencies. Raven wanted to leave it at that and call it a day.

But this was Robin, so of course they didn't.


	4. Horrors Too Terrible: III

The next scenario was initially designed to test how well she could take hits. They only ran the scenario after Raven assented, assuring them that between the four of them, they had nothing she knew of that was capable of damaging her soul-self. It would be as impactful as punching Cyborg if not less so.

She'd been hoping to dissuade Robin from doing more exercises than was necessary. When that didn't work and he still insisted, she should've known something else was afoot.

The thing was, Robin hadn't informed anyone else, either.

So the next scenario found Beast Boy sidelined and Raven in a calm lotus position as her soul-self, brilliant in its darkness with a peculiar quality of vitality, towered above them all, taking star bolts and sonic blasts like drops of water. Starfire and Cyborg were giving it their all and it showed, but Raven's soul-self remained immovable. For all the effect their hits were having, they may as well have been doing nothing at all. For his part, Beast Boy was glad to have been sidelined. Without any long distance attacks to hurl at her, he would've just slipped harmlessly away into the ominous fabric of her soul-self. Though Raven promised she'd be able to retrieve him should that ever happen, he wasn't too comforted. Better Starfire and Cyborg than him, since they didn't have to get anywhere near that thing (was that insensitive? It was _Raven_ , after all). Yes, he was content in his current role, dozing in feline form off to the side where Robin speculated and Raven floated.

"Can we stop now?" Raven asked after a few minutes, looking unbothered at Robin with one eye open despite the constant barrage of attacks.

"Keep going," Robin said.

Raven opened both eyes. "I think I've proven myself," she said with a note of impatience.

"Sure," he said, one eyebrow raised. "You can take hits. For how long?"

"Robin…"

"Raven, we need to know the extent of your durability. How long you'd be able to keep this up."

The prolonged discussion got Beast Boy's attention. At the sound of their voices, he roused himself and ambled closer to investigate.

"Robin, this is a bad idea," Raven said.

Robin was confused. Here was the first real protest she'd given him over this whole ordeal and it was regarding her endurance, of all things?

"They're not hurting you, right?"

"No."

"Then you can handle it," he said.

"Yeah, Rae," Beast Boy said, shifting back to human as he stretched. "You've totally been acing everything. What's a little endurance test?"

"No," Raven said, and this time she was stern. "You don't understand."

"Then explain," Robin said, not unkindly.

"When I described souls to you earlier," she said, "I told you that separation was temporary. That applies to me, too."

"But you're so much more proficient," Robin said, head tilted and brows drawn together.

"Yes, but it's still, by nature, temporary."

"Well, let's just see how long you can push it," Robin said.

Raven was tense now. "No, Robin, please," she said, and at this, Beast Boy's ears twitched. "This isn't like physical strength."

"I know," he said. He assumed she was nervous, though what about he hadn't the foggiest notion, and so gave her a reassuring smile. "But if Cyborg can push himself, so can you."

"Rob…" Beast Boy said. He was starting to get a bad feeling.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Robin asked.

Raven didn't seem to have an immediate answer, but Beast Boy piped up again. "Rob, man, I don't think this is such a great idea."

"I don't know why you're so nervous—"

"I really don't think Raven's—"

"Uh, guys?" Cyborg said, startling them both out of their discussion.

Before they could turn to see what the matter was, Starfire said, "Friends!" They could hear the alarm in her voice. "Something is wrong!"

Indeed, something was. Both Starfire and Cyborg had ceased fire and were, of their own volition, frozen in place, unsure whether to approach or back away. Raven's soul-self still stood where it was, but somehow, it had lost its brilliance, withering without ever having changed.

As for Raven herself, she no longer looked so somber. Actually, when Beast Boy looked closely… "Dude," he said, "she looks _terrified_."

Raven didn't acknowledge him in the least.

It was the most unsettling thousand-yard-stare any of the Titans had ever seen.

"Raven?" Robin said, reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder. "What's—"

Before he could finish, Raven gave a start and her soul-self shattered like glass. Noiselessly, the great black raven collapsed into shards, each one forebodingly sharp, even when a minute ago, the whole hadn't seemed tangible at all. They were slow, suspended in the air for a few moments, so black that they refused to glitter in the sunlight. It might've been a mesmerizing sight, but before long they were swept up, like leaves in a wind tunnel.

And they were headed straight for Raven.


	5. Horrors Too Terrible: IV

**Passing episode reference to "The End" arc.**

 **Also, I don't know how to properly warn for this, but brace yourselves: Raven's in a lot of pain. No violence or anything psychological, though.**

* * *

Raven screamed.

And not only screamed, but _writhed_ , contorted in such hideous agony that even Beast Boy felt his breath taken away. Her back was arched with unnatural strain, every part of her rigid as she screamed and screamed and couldn't seem to stop, no matter how much her teammates tried to soothe her—first verbally, then physically. When neither worked, Starfire looked first to Robin and then to Cyborg, beseeching them desperately.

Cyborg, looking pained himself, bent down and gently took Raven into his arms as though she were about to shatter too. All his care didn't seem to make a whit of difference; her screaming neither abated nor amplified.

He made for the med bay, the other Titans following closely behind. The last time he'd carried her bridal style like this, she'd been meek but cooperative. Now she was neither, which made his task a slightly more difficult one. Especially with her screaming right in front of him, in his arms, in unfathomable torment.

Cyborg didn't think he'd be forgetting this incident any time soon. Nor would his teammates by the matching looks of horror on their faces.

When they did finally make it to the med bay without, presumably, injuring Raven any further, Cyborg made quick work of laying her down and injecting her with a sedative. The sedative did put her to sleep, though it hardly seemed restful, considering the stress still obvious in every line of her body.

At least it was quiet again. The silence, made all the more drastic by the suddenness, didn't really make anyone feel any better. They looked down at her, twisted in distress, even as she slept.

"She still seems to be in pain," Starfire said. Her voice was soft, hardly above a whisper.

"I can give her an analgesic," Cyborg said, running a hand over his head. "But I don't think it'll help."

"Why not?" Beast Boy said, upset. " _Look_ at her!"

"I see her, man!" Cyborg said. "You think I _don't_? You think any of us don't see how much she's suffering right now?" He'd balled his hands into fists while he spoke. With heavy, plodding footsteps, Cyborg turned away and flexed his fingers.

"Whatever is causing her pain right now," Robin said, speaking for the first time since the screaming started, "isn't physical. I don't know how an analgesic would work."

"Well, we gotta try!" Beast Boy said. His voice broke and he shifted back into a cat so he could curl up by her side where he purred sadly. In his own way, he was trying.

"Beast Boy is right," Starfire said. She wanted to reach for Raven's hand, but was afraid to touch her. Instead, she settled for sitting in a chair by Raven's other side and pulling her knees up to her chest. "We must try everything we can."

With a sigh and a resigned "you're right, Star," Cyborg complied. They waited a few minutes, but Raven didn't relax.

It was barely evening, but Robin said, "It's been a long day. Maybe we should go get some rest."

"I would prefer to stay here," Starfire said.

Beast Boy purred louder, wiggling impossibly closer to Raven's side.

"Yeah, me too," Cyborg said, dropping into a chair of his own closer to the foot of the bed.

Robin wasn't inclined to do much else but follow suit. In his own chair, he leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands.

* * *

 **If you've read the comics, you know that I'm taking some serious liberties with this (depending on how you're interpreting things). I hope it doesn't bother anyone too much - I wanted to kind of make it my own without just copying what happens in the comics. Also, what they do in the comics is a weird experience to describe, so I simplified it a little.**


	6. Horrors Too Terrible: V

A few minutes went by where the only sound in the room was that of Beast Boy's purring. Starfire mustered the courage to gingerly grasp Raven's hand and when that didn't agitate her, she gripped it more tightly, like a lifeline.

Beast Boy must've noticed around the same time, but it was Starfire who first pointed it out. "I think Raven might be feeling better," she said. When Cyborg and Robin looked, she seemed far more at ease than she had been a while ago. It wasn't fast, but steadily, her pain was ebbing.

"With her genetic makeup, she'll metabolize that sedative much faster than we would," Cyborg said, getting to his feet to peer down at her. "Be careful, we don't know what's gonna happen when she wakes up from this."

"Surely she would not hurt us?" Starfire asked.

"Maybe not intentionally, Star," Robin said, also getting to his feet. "We've been messing with her powers all day. She might not have any control over it."

Beast Boy wisely leapt away as she stirred. He shifted back to human and turned to Robin. Timing not being his strong suit, he asked, "Rob, she told you to stop. Why'd you keep pushing her?"

At that moment, Raven's eyes opened. Disoriented, she winced and groaned at the light, covering her eyes with a trembling arm. Starfire hastened to close the window shades while Cyborg dimmed the light as much as he could while still allowing them to see. Raven mumbled what could've been a "thanks," but still seemed beyond words, probably not helped by how raw her throat must've been. Her whole body quivering as though cold, she sat up and pressed her hands to her forehead.

"Where…"

"We're in the med bay," Cyborg said.

"You were in a lot of pain and we did not know what to do," Starfire added.

Raven had nothing to say to this. She was far more preoccupied with keeping herself together.

"Rae? Can you talk?" Beast Boy asked, taking a small step closer.

It took some effort, but she said, "Yes." Haltingly, she lowered her hands to her lap and looked up at them. "I'm fine."

Cyborg scoffed.

"Raven," Robin said, sitting at the very foot of her bed, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried," she said. Her voice was no more than a feeble rasp.

"You should've told me what would happen."

"I didn't know," she admitted, a little vexed but mostly ashamed, looking down at her lap. "I just knew something bad would happen if my soul-self was separated from my body for too long." She met Robin's eyes as much as she could with his mask on. "I was more worried about hurting you all than myself."

A beat passed. Then, in a surprisingly tender moment for all of them, Beast Boy turned into a cat, smaller than he'd been earlier, and jumped into her lap, where he curled up and resumed purring. Raven hesitated but let her hand rest on his scruff and shoulder blades.

"So you didn't tell me…" Robin said.

Raven turned her face away. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me."

The pause after that confession was considerable and weighty. Undeterred, Beast Boy purred, a boy on a mission.

Robin wanted to, but it was Starfire who said, "We will never fear you, Raven."

"Yeah, Rae," Cyborg said, reaching over to put a hand on her back. He could still feel the faint tremors, but they were fading. "You're family. You might go all big and scary sometimes, but you're still family."

With her face turned away, it was hard to discern, but Raven might've smiled just a touch at that.

"As for you, bird boy," Cyborg said, fixing his gaze on Robin. "Why _didn't_ you listen?"

Robin hemmed and hawed for an uneasy moment as he floundered for a suitable explanation. Finally he conceded, his shoulders slumping. He had all of his teammates' attentions now, even Beast Boy, who'd opened one feline eye and still managed to look accusing. Or so Robin thought.

"I'm sorry, Raven," he said. "It didn't occur to me that you might get hurt. I just thought…"

"You thought it'd be like me," Cyborg said.

To her credit, Raven didn't look too bothered by all of this. If anything, she was embarrassed. In fact, she looked awfully small, sitting in that bed with enough room for Robin to sit comfortably at the end, Beast Boy situated in her lap, and Cyborg's large hand detecting the last remaining shivers. It felt to her as though she were in a harsh spotlight far too big for her.

"I'm sorry, Raven," Robin said again.

"You didn't know," she said.

"But you tried to tell me and I—"

"Robin," Starfire said, firm but courteous, "I think it might be best to do the 'letting go' of it for now, yes?" For all her innocuous obliviousness, Starfire could be very perceptive. Raven was definitely not in the mood for assuaging Robin's guilt, nor was it her responsibility to do so. Perhaps later, a more exhaustive conversation would be in order, one in which they reviewed when to respect boundaries and when it was acceptable or even beneficial to push them. A conversation where Raven would be more like herself.

But that was for later. Right now, Raven was clearly shaken up and they all had some recovering to do to various degrees.

"Yeah, Star, I think you're right," Robin said, straightening his back. He took Raven's free hand between his own, despite her mild surprise, and said with as much sincerity as he could, "I'm just glad you're okay, Raven."

"I am as well," Starfire said.

"Yeah, same here," Cyborg said.

Beast Boy chirped and pushed back into her hand a little.

Raven looked at each of them in turn. "Thank you," she said. Getting the sense that she wanted to say more, her teammates waited. "I'm glad…" she said, then faltered a moment before continuing. "I'm glad I wasn't alone."

Starfire, certain that in the silence that followed she could hear the sound of her heart "cracking" as she thought she'd heard them say on Earth, moved a little closer to the bed. "May I…?" she asked, holding her arms out. Raven didn't look thrilled at the prospect but she nodded, permitting Starfire to wrap her arms around her, absent of her usual zeal and excitement. Instead, there was a delicate but fervent and unmistakable warmth and love in the gesture and Raven even found herself enjoying it a little.

Good thing, too, because then Cyborg said, "Aww," and did the same, engulfing the two in his arms. Then Starfire reached out and pulled Robin into the mix, who had to adjust so that his arms weren't scrunched, only for Beast Boy, a snake now, to slither between and around them to slot himself into the tangle.

"You just had to, didn't you, Beast Boy?" Raven said.

Starfire laughed as he flicked his tongue against her cheek.

* * *

 **Inspiration from the comics: Raven's soul-self cannot be separated from her body for longer than five minutes, lest she be subjected to "horrors too terrible to speak of." This is where the inspiration ends; I did not take into account what actually happens and took creative license with everything else.**

 **Thank you for the reviews, by the way. They've made my day. I've been meaning to respond but haven't had the time, but if you've reviewed, expect to hear from me (hopefully soon).**

 **That's it for this installment. I'll probably take a break for finals and then return with another addition to Showcase. Good luck to everyone else taking finals around now!**


	7. Of All Sad Words of Tongue or Pen

**It behooves you to read the foreword for this series first, which you can find as the first chapter in this story.**

* * *

 **Summary: The team finds out that Raven writes her own epitaphs.**

 **approx. 1,500 words**  
 **one-shot  
** **topic: general friendship**

* * *

In her free time, Raven sometimes writes herself epitaphs.

She writes them in notebooks, on napkins, and on toilet paper. There are flashcards by her bedside and on her desk, complete with pencils and pens. The styles of writing are all different, too. Some are written in her native Azaranian, others in English, others still in the various other languages she knows, of which there are many. A great deal of her writings are in her normal, poised script, but others are written in print, calligraphy, big block letters or tiny capitals. It's really a mishmash, when you look at them all together.

Some are repeats, written in different styles or languages, as though she were trying them out to see which looked or sounded best. Some are funny in a morbid sense, others horribly tragic, a few are simply quotes or seemingly irrelevant.

Thanks to the incredibly random nature of her musings, nobody really knows what she's doing for a long time or even how or when it started. Beast Boy teases her for writing "emo" poetry, Starfire puzzles over the languages she doesn't recognize, Cyborg just leaves her alone, and Robin tries and fails to feign interest.

But the Titans, if nothing else, are snoops and sleuths. Beast Boy is the first to note that she avoids leaving them in plain sight. Starfire notes that, when in public, Raven only writes in other languages. Together, these observations make Robin suspicious, despite Cyborg's insistence to leave it alone.

"Do you know something we don't?" Robin asks Cyborg one day.

"No," Cyborg says, "but it's Raven we're talking about."

Robin frowns, but leaves it at that. Reminding each other that "it's Raven" seems to be the be-all-end-all for conversations about her. Regardless, Robin remembers that he himself has counseled Beast Boy and Starfire to leave Raven in peace before. He resolves to once again content himself with her mystery.

That is, until he stumbles upon the answer. He catches Cyborg using a gadget on his arm to translate something written on a napkin in their kitchen in what looks like ancient Greek. It must have been left behind earlier when they'd been called out in the middle of breakfast.

He didn't know that Raven was literate in ancient Greek, but she's the only member of the team who could be. And what Cyborg is doing seems like a clear invasion of privacy.

Before Robin can chastise him or Cyborg can apologize for what he's doing, the translation appears on the screen on Cyborg's arm. They both pause.

"'It's impossible to escape from what is destined'?" Robin reads aloud.

"'For illustrious men have the whole earth for their tomb'," Cyborg reads the rest. They look at each other. Cyborg rests his arm on the counter. They look back down at the innocuous napkin with its neat pen scrawl, written by Raven's hand.

"Is she talking about herself?" Robin asks.

"I guess so," Cyborg says.

Robin picks up the napkin and examines it closely as though it would reveal some clue.

Cyborg redirects his attention back to the screen on his arm. "I'm not sure where the first phrase comes from, but my computers say that the second one is taken from Pericles' Funeral Oration." He barely hesitates before asking, "Did you know Raven could read and write ancient Greek?"

"No," Robin says, setting the napkin back down on the counter.

"Neither did I," Cyborg says. He turns the display off.

"I don't know what this is about," Robin says, turning tail and making for the door to the hallway, "but I intend to find out."

Cyborg doesn't try to dissuade him.

As it turns out, Robin is unable to get an audience with Raven until that evening, when the Titans convene for dinner. Robin never gets his chance to corner her. Raven is writing on a flashcard when Starfire asks, "Raven, what are you writing?"

"An epitaph," she says. She doesn't look up.

"For whom?"

"Myself."

Raven doesn't seem to think this as odd as her fellow Titans do because she doesn't stop writing until she feels all their stares on her. "What?" she asks.

"You write your own epitaphs?" Beast Boy asks.

"Mm-hmm," Raven says. "Why?"

Cyborg and Robin share a look. "Rae, isn't that kind of… depressing?" Cyborg says.

"No." Raven raises an eyebrow. "Should it be?"

Voicing his thoughts from earlier, Robin rubs the back of his neck and says, "Well, it just seems like you're thinking about your own death a lot." Their fellow Titans nod and hum in agreement.

Raven considers this. "Death is a fact of life."

"Well, yeah, but, we're still teenagers," Beast Boy says. "We're not supposed to die for a long time."

"I was supposed to die after my birthday," Raven says.

Her teammates don't look thrilled at the reminder. Her nonchalance doesn't really help, either.

"But you did not," Starfire says. Raven doesn't see why this matters. She deposits her dishes in the dishwasher and takes her flashcard and pen with her to her room. While not embarrassed, she doesn't like being scrutinized.

There's mostly quiet in her wake.

"Should we be worried about her?" Beast Boy asks.

There is no answer.

The whole episode doesn't deter Raven. She keeps writing what the team assumes are epitaphs with no particular rhyme or reason, no more or less often than she had been. Nobody really mentions it or talks about it again, though there is the occasional shrug or look of concern exchanged between team members. Peculiarity, when it comes to Raven, is normalcy. After all, it's Raven we're talking about.

Eventually, Raven starts compiling them all into one new, unmarked journal. There isn't much organization to it, but she copies all of her epitaphs over, neatly arranged in this journal she begins to carry with her. Every now and then, she still adds to it, but her teammates now sometimes catch her reading it.

There is no special occasion that precipitates Starfire asking Raven to read the journal to her. There is no mishap, no battle, no outcry or bonding experience or trip. It is her inherent curiosity meeting opportunity. Maybe Raven even expects it.

In a manner befitting the circumstances, Raven responds with a perfunctory, "I'd rather not."

Without missing a beat, Starfire asks, "Why do you write them, Raven?"

It's a perfectly natural question, one that nobody else had yet bothered posing to her. Raven closes her journal softly and runs her fingertips over the plain cover. It is a completely unremarkable book being examined on a completely unremarkable day at a completely unremarkable time by two very, very remarkable girls.

Finally, Raven says, "I guess… they're reminders."

"Of what?"

Raven doesn't meet Starfire's eyes when she says, "Of the good things I am, the things I want to be remembered for." Starfire might've interjected, but Raven stalls, letting both her palms rest on the journal in her lap. "They remind me of the things I haven't done yet, too."

Starfire had once visited the cemetery with Robin on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. Their headstones were simple: their names, dates of birth, dates of death. But they also both mentioned the Flying Graysons and how beloved they'd been as children, spouses, and parents themselves. The things that defined their lives, mere words chiseled into stone for eternity, had brought Robin, and in turn Starfire, to tears. Starfire, who'd never met Robin's parents and never would, knew them only by the words on their headstones—knew them well, and loved them.

And, somehow, another part of Raven begins to make sense to her.

Because what might her own headstone say? Koriand'r, also known as Starfire, of Tamaran. Princess. Beloved… daughter? Sister? Friend. Teammate. Hero. Girlfriend? Wife? Mother? Would there be a quote, or a sentence, or a picture engraved, too? How could her life be summed up briefly, lovingly enough? Would she be proud of it?

For a moment, as she tries to picture a mossy headstone in a gray cemetery with her name on it, she sees a somber kind of beauty. The kind of beauty Raven embodies and engenders without trying.

Starfire could've cried then. Raven knows it.

"I see," Starfire says. She wipes an unformed tear from the corner of her eye and stands. "Thank you, Raven."

"You're welcome," Raven says, watching Starfire retreat. Perhaps she'd return to her room, or maybe go find their teammates, or maybe just fly for a while. Maybe she'd even meditate.

But Raven could sense how Starfire was affected. It was a deep, heady mix of emotion wafting from her, getting fainter as she went further, but no less potent.

Raven thought Starfire might've just uncovered something profound about her. Raven keeps many secrets and holds her privacy in high regard, but not everything she does is so strange and otherworldly. She's part human too, even if she'd grown up in another dimension, so far apart from everything they knew here on Earth.

Of course, however humbling Starfire's realization might've been, it doesn't change anything. Raven is still as secretive, introverted, and aloof as ever. It would take a lot more than an ordinary day to change Raven's world. And why shouldn't it? It's Raven we're talking about.

* * *

 **"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'"**

 **No particular inspiration for this one, I just thought the quote was fitting.**


End file.
